Before you read:I'm feeling creative and will probably be stretching the limits of what could/couldn't happen in the the Pokemon universe. I'll do my best to represent the actual Pokemon as accurately as possible. I'll be creating my own region and characters however. Also, this will not be the most bright/cheerful piece of writing. I added these to give the feel of an actual journal. Entries will probably be short.

Entry I:

My therapist says I should start up a journal. So here I am. She also says that I should treat it like I'm talking to a person and not to an inanimate object. I feel like twenty-five is a bit old for imaginary friends, but I'm not the doctor am I? No. I'm the police officer. I guess I'll just roll with it. I don't have much of an excuse since I have so much off time with the league in hiatus. Who knows when, if ever, it will start up again. After what happened with Stix, everything we thought we knew had to be questioned.

Since I'm treating this you like a friend and not a notebook, I suppose it's only proper that I introduce myself. My name is Thomas Pillar. I'm twenty-five years old and I've been a police officer for five years now. I always wanted to work in law enforcement, but it's not exactly what I thought it would be. I imagined myself taking down big name criminals, cutting down large scale Pokemon trafficking rings, etc. Reality turned out to be rather anticlimaktic anticlimactic. I work in the Pokemon Protection Unit. It is our job to ensure that Pokemon training and battles (competitive and casual) do not cross the line of abuse. I spend much of my day traveling to and inspecting the gyms and training dojos of each region. It's dull work. Most facilities employ a spotter to warn them of my arrival.

For two months out of the year, however, my painful days of ru routine are interrupted by the Pokemon League. Trainers from all corners of the world flock to the capitol to battle for the title of Champion. Everyone in the unit is placed on overtime and all vacation requests are quickly denied. It's a busy time, but it has its perks. Ever since I joined the unit, I've gotten to see every battle live. It really just isn't the same on television. Hopefully we'll get to see it again some day.

Work is calling, Pillar out.

Last edited by Stix on Sun Jul 12, 2015 7:27 pm; edited 2 times in total

I skipped therapy today. I've been going, once every two weeks, for five year now (department mandated) and today was the first session I've ever been too busy to attend. I was looking forward to this session. For once, I actually have a few questions for her. I normally tret treat our bi-weekly meeting like an interview. I sit and patiently wait for questions. She asks. I answer. But now she has me curious. Why have me start a journal just now? Why not five years ago when I first started seeing her? Oh well, I guess these questions will have to wait until next time.

I had to skip therapy today. The unit station has been an absolute mad house for the past two weeks. Ever since what happened with the league, everyone has been a bit manic. It's almost like time and space wrinkled by the tiniest margins. In the long run, it won't be a big deal. Today, however, it may as well be dooms day.

I have had the fortune (or misfortune, not sure which to be honest) of being put in charge of this case. No one was quite sure if a crime had even occurred, but if one had, it would fall on our department to investigate. I think I was put in the lead for this one because I'm rather thorough when it comes to my work. I learned early on that even the smallest error in your work can result in guilty men going free. I always go as far into the past as I can when I start a new case. When I walk in to interview you, I want to know more about you than you know about yuo yourself. The trouble with this particular case, was that the more I dug, the less I felt myself wanting to go deeper.

Stix's life story (the bits I could learn from our files) was like something out of a horror novel. He grew up on the coast in a small, grey city called Lavender Town. I've never been there myself, but from the sound of things, it's not the happiest place on the map. His father was a gravedigger, who seemingly vanished out of thin air when Stix was nine years old. Soon after, his mother apparently lost all sense of things and was unable to care for him. There is not a shred of paper evidence acknowledging his existence following his being moved to Saffron to live with his grandmother. For seven years, he's a ghost. Then he reappears when he recieved his Trainer license at the age of sixteen. Unfortunately I had to go into my first interview with a handyc handicap that I've never dealt with before; a lack of information. I was going into what could become the biggest case of my career with basically nothing. I would really be starting from the bottom on this one.